


Faith

by hrhrionastar



Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: Episode: s01e01 Prophecy, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-18
Updated: 2012-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-29 17:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/322504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hrhrionastar/pseuds/hrhrionastar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dennee would have died for the quest. But the D'Harans deny her even that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faith

"This is more important than me," Dennee choked, pressing the Book of Counted Shadows into her sister's hands. "You know that."

Kahlan was crying. But she took the book, and kissed Dennee's forehead, and ran.

The Amnell sisters knew their duty.

Dennee was sorry to be the cause of any wavering in Kahlan's resolve. She was sorrier still that she would never see her sister again, never meet the Seeker, never hold her child in her arms.

She lay on the muddy bank of the stream, closed her eyes, and waited for the Keeper.

What came for her was worse.

* * *

  
Dennee remembered only the haziest fragments of her capture, and the subsequent journey to the nearest D'Haran garrison. Her wound was severe, although not as immediately fatal as she had assumed.

But she knew instantly when the Rada'Han clicked into place around her neck.

There were only two soldiers. They obviously didn't consider Dennee much of a threat, in her current condition. It irked her that they were right.

They set her on her feet in front of the garrison. Dennee blinked as two Mord'Sith strolled toward her.

"Who's this?" asked the one with vibrant red hair. She was young, hardly more than a girl.

"Prisoner for Lord Rahl," one soldier said laconically.

"A Confessor," Dennee clarified. She was still dizzy from her wound, and she swayed on her feet. Instantly she turned it to good account, curling her fingers into a claw and making a symbolic grab for the redhead's throat.

Both Mord'Sith took an involuntary step back, before spotting the metallic glint of the Rada'Han.

Dennee smiled bitterly. _Spooked you, did I?_

"A Confessor," drawled the redhead. She exchanged a look with the other one, whose skin was a rich dark brown and who was also eerily young. "Scary."

The dark-skinned Mord'Sith drew her agiels. The air hummed with danger.

"Scarier," said the redhead.

She grabbed a handful of Dennee's flaxen curls and drove her agiel against the wound left by the arrow.

The pain was indescribable.

Dennee screamed.

The two Mord'Sith beat her, systematically, on the steps to the garrison. They were careful. Dennee never quite escaped into unconsciousness.

* * *

  
"How is she?"

"She will recover."

The voices slowly penetrated the thick fog that seemed to surround Dennee. The first voice was that of a man, and contained academic interest without any warmth. The second was coolly professional and female.

Dennee fought to open her eyes and see her tormentors, but her eyelids remained impossibly heavy.

She knew already these were not friends, that she was not rescued. Her power still hummed impatiently at the barrier of the Rada'Han.

"Keep me informed," the man ordered.

"There is something else, my lord," added the second voice. "She is with child."

Dennee did not hear whatever reply the man might have made. Her downward slide back into insensibility was accompanied by the dark thought that it might have been better if the beating she'd taken at the hands of the Mord'Sith had cost her the child she carried.

The Creator only knew what horrors the Mord'Sith and their master, Darken Rahl, might inflict on a helpless Confessor baby.

* * *

  
After that, however, Dennee was treated fairly gently, for a prisoner. She was allowed exercise periods, out of her cell, and her captors provided any not-too-obscure food she requested.

She knew this courtesy was for the health of her child.

The only aberration was the man with greasy hair who drew samples of her blood in apparent fascination.

Until the day the redheaded Mord'Sith returned.

"Come out and play, Confessor!" she caroled, tapping the bars of Dennee's cell. "Wouldn't you like to kill me?"

Dennee did not reply. The girl had no idea just how much the Confessor wanted to kill her.

As the redhead began unlocking the cell door, another Mord'Sith appeared and struck her hard enough that she fell to her knees.

This one was closer to Dennee's own age, and with a long blonde braid that reminded Dennee of her own hair, before her captors had cut it off.

"Stay away from the Confessor, Tatya," said the blonde.

The redhead pouted. "Please, Mistress?"

"You may do nothing until after the birth," the blonde Mord'Sith said coolly. "Lord Rahl wants the child."

Dennee watched the two women walk away, and then buried her face against her raised knees. A single tear dropped onto her dusty skirt.

She would have given almost anything to have Confessed Darken Rahl, cause of all her suffering and enemy of her homeland.

She was terrified. For her people, for her sister, and for her child most of all.

Dennee could see no escape from this nightmare.

 _Kahlan will come for you,_ she tried to reassure herself. _She'll find the Seeker, and she'll come for you._

 _Someday soon. Any day now._

 _She'll come._


End file.
